


a stretch of sand time forgot

by greyn



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (he's from chinese mythology!!), Angst, I'm the author I can do what I want, M/M, Not really an AU, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, i bullshat my way through so much of this, i mean maybe idk???, i wouldnt say Fluff exactly but its not that painful, i'm so bad at summaries but basically, if i'm not mistaken, its fun fresh, its inevitable i'm sorry, its kinda funny i promise, just trust me, like so much i wrote about this island is just not true but whatever, suddenly i am a comedian, this is an ogygia au (heroes of olympus fans i'm looking at u), umm idk what else to tag this with, yut lung is calypso and sing is whoever tf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22772131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyn/pseuds/greyn
Summary: On his 18th birthday, Yut Lung is cursed with eternal youth on an island he can never leave and an impossible task: every three months, he has to convince whichever man has washed up on his shores to fall in love with him and stay on the island with him forever. After a year of heartbreak, an entirely new challenge presents itself when Sing Soo Ling arrives.
Relationships: Lee Yut-Lung/Original Male Character(s), Lee Yut-Lung/Sing Soo-Ling
Comments: 31
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY HEY I'M GLAD YOURE HERE !!!!!!!!! ive been plannig this for like ..... over half a year and i am SO HAPPY I'M FINALLY DOING IT AHHHHHHHH
> 
> listen this bitch feels a little rough but i'm really hoping its decent!!!! or enjoyable!!!!! cause i had a lot of fun writing this!!!!!!!!! anyway Again i'm sorry i can't promise consistent updates but i'm darn well gonna try my best!!!!!
> 
> also the title is from the song "life on a rock" by kenny chesney which i found like 15 minutes before i posted this cause i needed a title [weary emoji]

So it starts in 1989. 

The sun burns hot, scorching in the August air, and Sing can feel his skin browning in the heat. The sand looks like it could leave burns on their feet, so they dash across the sand and sink in the waves with a collective sigh of relief. 

Gang morale has been a little low recently after a nasty encounter with a new Thai gang that’s seen fit to hang around Chang Dai all the time, and Sing figured they all needed a day out to just hang around before they kick them out for good. It seems like it’s working out okay - Eiji tagged along, taking pictures of sweat-dripped faces and eventual smiles. Eventually, though, the heat had gotten to him, too, and Eiji joined them in the ocean waves just a little while later. 

This is good, Sing thinks - he hasn’t smiled this much in a while, and he’s choked on saltwater more than a few times after poorly-timed laughs. This was a good move.

“Whoever comes up first has to buy us all a round!” Qiu shouts, and suddenly heads start to disappear. 

Sing squeezes his eyes dives underwater - he’s a pro at this, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna let himself buy everyone drinks. He presses his nostrils shut; he can still feel the burn of saltwater in the back of his throat. 

He stays underwater for almost two minutes, and when his lungs start to ache, he kicks upwards: someone has to have come up by now. Eyes still squeezed shut, the dull pressure in his ears doesn’t seem to be lessening at all, so he takes his hand away from his nose and tries to push upwards. He can feel the water give way beneath his kicks and his pulling, but the surface doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. 

How deep even is he? 

He opens his eyes as his lungs crush. The watery light seems so, so far.

The last of his air floats to the surface, blurred white lines in his vision. He kicks harder, and he tries to scream, but he has nothing left in his lungs and the light is only getting farther away. 

Sing grows more frantic, but even that feels strangely faint. Fuzzy, almost. Black creeps into his vision and he closes his eyes. His lungs are on fire and he kicks and pulls and silently uselessly screams, a gaping mouth swallowing saltwater and panic, and the black is creeping farther and the sound of water swirling in his ears is getting quieter, he thinks there might be splashing above him but he isn’t sure, he isn’t sure. 

_Is this how I’m going to die?_ Sing wonders. _What a stupid way to go out._

The black pours over his skin and he sinks.

☼

Sing blinks, eyes heavy. His body is wet, there’s sand sticking everywhere. 

The sun beats down, warming his skin, and god, he’s tired. Everything burns so salty. He closes his eyes again, and he can still see the red sun through his eyelids, but he’s starting to fall asleep again, anyway. 

The red disappears, and he smells lavender. 

The last thing he hears before he fades into unconsciousness is, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

☼

Let’s rewind for a second.

Ash Lynx died in the spring of 1986. Spring is for new beginnings, but the spring of 1986 brought a horrible, horrible ending. 

Sing wasn’t someone who had lived a life without tragedy. Shorter’s death had crushed him - he had spent months dreaming of a buried smile and a lost pair of sunglasses, and he would wake up with sweat on his skin and tears in his eyes. 

But Ash’s death had, quite literally, hit different. Eiji was beyond shattered, and they all mourned not only for Ash, but also for Eiji. For the ghost that Ash had left behind. Something broke inside all of them when they found out Ash had died. 

But Eiji was broken, completely and utterly. And Sing knew exactly who was responsible. 

He found Yut Lung in his apartment, with yet another glass of wine. Something hot burned in his chest, something ugly and miserable and _mean._

He stood facing him, feeling the beginnings of rage stir inside of him. Yut Lung didn’t even look at him, he just continued to swirl his wine. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sing asked, quietly.

Yut Lung finally flicked a glance up at him. “Oh, the usual. Drowning my sorrows and all that.” 

The rage took form, turned into something hot and vile. “Drowning your sorrows? Drowning your fucking sorrows? What fucking sorrows are you drowning?” Sing started to shake, unable to keep the anger from consuming his voice. He snatched the wine glass from Yut Lung’s hand, and Yut Lung recoiled, whether in shock or outrage Sing could not have cared less. 

“Ash is _dead,_ ” Sing said, and the grief in his voice was raw and sharp and it hurt but he didn’t care, he hoped it hurt him he hoped it made him bleed. He clenched his fist tight around the stem of the wine glass, and there was pale golden liquid shivering inside of it, like a half-hearted imitation of the color of Ash’s hair. “Shouldn’t you be happy? Isn’t this what you fucking wanted? Shouldn’t you be fucking celebrating? But now you’re what - drowning your fucking sorrows? Are you fucking kidding me?” Sing was yelling now, the wine sloshing against the thin glass, and all he could think was, _Wouldn’t it be so easy to break this?_

So he did, he smashed it against Yut Lung’s soft champagne walls, and the shattering of the glass only served to fuel his rage even further. He watched the wine drip down for a moment before turning back to face Yut Lung. 

Yut Lung was crying now, silently. Sing didn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” Yut Lung said, half apology and half plea, and fury seized Sing. 

“ _Shut up!_ Shut up shut up shut the fuck up! Don’t fucking apologise! Shut the fuck up!” Sing yelled, spitting nothing but vitriol, and suddenly all he could feel was loathing, just loathing and hatred and utter disgust. 

“ _You don’t fucking get to apologise!_ You think you can say sorry and I’ll fucking take pity on your fucking pathetic piece of shit ass and say it’s fucking fine, don’t worry, no one fucking cared about him anyway? _You_ did this! _You_ told him to kill Ash! Shut the fuck up!”

“I didn’t,” Yut Lung cried, but the protest was weak and barely heard above the roaring sound of fire in Sing’s blood. 

“ _I don’t fucking care!_ You did fucking enough, and now he’s fucking _dead_. You don’t fucking get to apologise. Look what you did, Yue. Look what you fucking did.” The anger started to seep out of Sing, and he started to cry, resentment and sorrow and regret dripping onto a cashmere carpet, plush with wealth and brutality. 

“I’m sorry,” Yut Lung said again, grief-stricken. 

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. Look what you did,” Sing said, chest heaving. 

“Look what I did,” Yut Lung said miserably.

Sing looked up at him again, tears swimming cruel across his cheeks. “I’m going. Forever. I don’t want to see you anymore. You aren’t who I hoped you would be.”

And, curiously, this was what made Yut Lung begin to weep. His cries echoed through the hall as Sing walked away, and rang in his mind for a long, long time after he had left. 

Sing did not return, and he didn’t see Yut Lung for the next three years. He was there, sometimes, lurking in the folds of his memory, pressing ghostly dents in the soft pink recesses of his mind, but he never saw him. 

Until 1989. But we’re not quite there yet. 

☼

It actually began in 1987. 

On Yut Lung’s 17th birthday in October, Yut Lung had lit a single pink candle, stuck it in a chocolate cupcake he had bought from a nearby bakery, and blew out the flame, desperately wishing he would not live to see his 18th. 

When he did, he woke up on an empty island, completely naked, sand in the folds of his skin. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered. He blinked against the softly shining sun, and wondered why the light did not seem as harsh as it usually did. 

He sat up and looked around for some sort of foliage or perhaps just a large leaf, because even though he seemed to be alone on this island, he didn’t want to run into someone unexpectedly while his dick was still just hanging out. 

“Don’t bother,” a voice came from behind him, and Yut Lung screamed, whipping his head around. His skin flushed target red when he saw it was a man, long hair pulled back into a bun, clean-shaven, handsome face, and he began to frantically scoop sand over his groin in a futile attempt to preserve his modesty. 

The man laughed, and absently, Yut Lung noted that he had a very nice laugh. “Sorry about that. Let’s grab you some clothes so you feel a little more comfortable.” He reached a hand out to help him up, and Yut Lung, still very aware of his own nakedness, took it and stood. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. The man had a strange, charming, and confident air about him, and it almost made him feel uneasy. 

“You must be wondering where you are,” the man said, starting to walk away. Yut Lung took this as an indication that he should follow, and did. 

“Yes, quite,” he said, gaining back some of his usual hubris as he feels a surge of annoyance at literally not knowing anything about what the hell was going on. “I have a few other questions as well, but you’d better start with that one.”

The man chuckled. “Why don’t you let me introduce myself first? My name is Hu Tianbao. Thrilled to have you here.”

“Lee Yut Lung. I’m sorry to tell you I can’t say the same.” 

Hu Tianbao laughed again. “No worries.” He looked out past the shore, at the waves which seemed to churn and crash slower than they usually did, and said, “This is _ài zhī dǎo_.” 

“Island of love?” Yut Lung asked, bewildered. “Are you trying to seduce me or something?” 

Hu Tianbao snorted. “Unfortunately not. On this island, _you_ will be doing the seducing.” 

Something cold ran across Yut Lung’s spine. The thought made him feel sick. 

“Ah - not like that. My apologies. To put it frankly - someone cast a spell on you. Well, technically it’s a curse, but I like to think the real estate here is good enough to upgrade it to maybe just an unpleasant spell.” 

“Real estate?” Yut Lung asked, the cold feeling now dissipated but replaced with both confusion and annoyance. 

“Just messing around,” Hu Tianbao said with a teasing smile. “There are a few main living areas around here, though - I’ll give you a tour.” 

“Great,” Yut Lung said, sounding like it was not great at all. “Weren’t you going to tell me about why I was here?”

“Oh, right! Sorry, I get distracted sometimes,” Hu Tianbao said. “Well, the curse is basically that you’re sent to live on an undiscoverable island in the middle of some ocean, and then once every three lunar cycles on this island, I send a nice new man to wash up on your shores. And then for the next three months or maybe less depending on how bad you are at it, you will fall in love with him and then try to make him fall in love with _you_ so that he’ll stay on the island with you forever. Also, you can never leave. But it’s okay! You never age and time passes differently in the real world while you're on this island. And also, it’s a perfect island! Like, look around you! It’s literally perfect! Hand-designed by yours truly, of course.” Hu Tianbao said this all very fast, and Yut Lung’s head swum. 

“Hey, hey, wait a minute. Can you slow down a bit? I’m supposed to convince someone to stay on the island with me forever? You mean like, literally forever? As in, the end of time, forever? And I can _never leave?_ ” 

At first he was thinking hey, it might not be so bad - no one could turn down a nice island vacation, right? But he was pretty sure everyone could turn down an island vacation that lasted until the _literal_ __end_ of time_. And who had even put the fucking spell on him in the first place? He felt like someone casting a curse on him would have been a memorable moment, but he had no memory of it whatsoever. 

“Exactly!” Hu Tianbao said cheerfully. “I know it sounds a little daunting at first, but I know you can do it. You seem like a very beautiful and charming man.” Hu Tianbao winked at him, and Yut Lung couldn’t help but feel a little flattered - he could never turn down a nice ego-stroking, but he was still hyper-aware of the complete _shitf_ _est_ this whole situation was. 

“Appreciated, but this is still an absolute fucking nightmare. And you said _you_ send them over? Who exactly are you?” 

Hu Tianbao grinned. “I was wondering when you’d ask. I go by a lot of names, of course. A lot of people call me Tu’Er Shen. Technically I’m the ‘god and safeguarder of homosexual affections’ but that's such a mouthful. I feel like ‘god of the gays’ or even just ‘gay god’ has a better ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I thought the gods faded away centuries ago,” Yut Lung said pensively, ignoring his question.

“A lot of them did,” Hu Tianbao said. “But you would not _believe_ the amount of gay men who still pray to me asking for their assholes to be able stretch wider without ripping. It’s a dilemma as old as time.” He sighed solemnly. 

“What the fuck,” Yut Lung said. “Why would you pray for that?”

Hu Tianbao shrugged. “I don’t ask questions. All I need to do is snap my fingers and they’ve got stretched assholes. Who am I to refuse them when they ask so nicely? Oh, and here’s the guest area. As in, this is where all your boys will be staying. Only one at a time, though, of course.” 

“My boys,” he muttered darkly. What a fate he’d been doomed to, he thought bitterly. 

“Your boys,” Hu Tianbao confirmed brightly.

They walked into the entrance of a - cave, Yut Lung supposed it was, and he had to admit that for a room in the middle of a cave, it was rather impressive. The ceiling glittered with luminescent crystals of all different colors, and after a moment Yut Lung noticed that they were somehow arranged in rainbow order. _A pride flag? Christ._

The bed was plush and king-sized, and there was a small mahogany bedside table, on top of which there was a small pile of books. Wandering closer, the covers of the books revealed themselves to be of various (very naked) men in various (very sexual) positions, and Yut Lung turned to Hu Tianbao and said, “Did you put erotic novels on the bedside table?”

“Of course I did,” Hu Tianbao said. “Don’t you like to read before you go to bed?”

Yut Lung tossed him a disgusted look, and Hu Tianbao laughed. “Do you like how I decorated everything?” 

“You mean do I like the pride flag made of crystals on the cave ceiling?” 

“I picked out the furniture, too,” Hu Tianbao protested, but after Yut Lung gave him a look, he said, “Well, yes, mostly the pride flag.”

“How do you even know about pride flags?”

“I keep up with the times,” Hu Tianbao said. “ _Especially_ in regards to my little homosexual friends. Okay, are we about done here?” 

Yut Lung had already turned back to the entrance. “Yeah. Show me more.” 

“Anything for you,” Hu Tianbao said with a wink. 

They wandered out of the cave together, and Hu Tianbao took him through a large forest of trees and into a clearing inside of it. There was a campfire in the middle, surrounded by various hammocks. It had a strange sort of charm, though it was certainly nothing spectacular.

“Cute,” Yut Lung said.

“Isn’t it?” Hu Tianbao said, delightedly. “The hammocks are so comfortable, too. But you can find that out for yourself later. Let me show you the kitchen area! That’s my favorite part.”

He was sort of like a child, Yut Lung thought, intoxicatingly cheerful and bubbly bright.

A few minutes of walking along a beaten path took them to the kitchen area - and Yut Lung could immediately see why it was his favorite part. Honestly, it looked really fucking cool. It was almost like a treehouse on the ground, a large foundation of mossy wooden planks and vines crawling around wooden poles, dotted with umbrellas and picnic benches matching the mossy planks. The kitchen area was spacious, and upon further inspection, seemed fairly well-stocked with appropriate cutlery, dishware, and filled with cooking ingredients Yut Lung hadn’t even heard of before. 

“Very impressive,” Yut Lung praised. “Did you design this whole island?”

“Every last inch,” Hu Tianbao said, pride shining in his smile. “Now to your bedroom!”

He continued on a new pebbled path that led back out to the water, but just before they emerged through the forest, Hu Tianbao turned to the right and announced, “Here we are!”

Yut Lung turned in the same direction. It was a charming beach hut, and when they walked in, Yut Lung smelled lavender. It looked like a luxury hotel room, white fitted sheets and duvet on a king-size canopy bed, as well as a bath, toilet, and the works. 

And all with a lovely ocean view. It almost seemed like he had stumbled into a dream.

Had he?

“Is this a dream?” Yut Lung asked. It was definitely one of the strangest he’d had in a while, if it was. 

Hu Tianbao laughed, but his bright expression slid off his face when he quieted. “No. It may, as you said, start to feel like a nightmare after a while, though, I’m sorry to say. I’m just doing my best to stop it from being a totally miserable experience.” 

It was then that the implications of everything began to sink in. He was on this island, forever. He was doomed to have his heart broken, forever. Immortality had always been one of his worst fears, and now he was face to face with it. Actually, he wasn’t even face to face with it - immortality had exploded inside him without warning. There had been no offer, no alternative option. 

So the price of another’s death was his own immortality. Yut Lung found himself wishing the roles had been reversed - the curse caster’s immortality for his own death. That would have been better for everyone, wouldn’t it? 

On seeing the look on Yut Lung’s face, which he was sure wasn’t exactly bursting with joy, Hu Tianbao turned even more solemn. “I’m sorry, Yut Lung. I wish there was more I could do for you, but I’m bound to this spell. I’ll be here whenever you need me, okay? Every time someone leaves, I’ll be here. You seem far more interesting than the thought of stretching yet another asshole. You don’t need to worry about getting lonely.” 

“Thanks,” Yut Lung said half-heartedly. 

From the wide glass windows of the room, Yut Lung saw that the sky started to dim; the blue turned faded and milky. Hu Tianbao looked at the sky, too. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

“Okay,” Yut Lung said, and with a swirl of rainbow glitter, he was alone on an island he would never leave. 

Okay.

☼

Days on the island carried on in a seasalt breeze, sadness in your lungs kind of way. True to his word, Hu Tianbao would send a new man to wash up on his shores every three months, and Yut Lung inevitably fell in love. What Yut Lung had failed to anticipate, however, was that perhaps not every man that came would want to leave as soon as he arrived. In fact, many of them, it seemed, would fall a little bit in love with Yut Lung, too. 

But they always left in the end. And when they did, Hu Tianbao was there as he cried, and he would sweep away the pieces of his heart and offer him a new one.

Those are stories for another day, though. Today, we return to the present. 

Yut Lung stands at the entrance of the cave. This is a particularly bold (and quite frankly, insulting) move on Hu Tianbao’s part, but the bastard’s hearing can be awfully selective when he wants it to be, so all of Yut Lung’s angry cursing at the sky had been completely ignored. 

All of a sudden, Yut Lung hears a loud groan. Sing’s head peeks out from above his blankets. “Are you fucking _kidding me?”_

Yut Lung chuckles dryly. “Funny, that’s exactly what I said.” 

“What the fuck?” Sing says, and Yut Lung almost flinches at the aggression in his tone. “Where even am I?” Yut Lung walks over to the bed, where Sing props himself up on his elbows. 

_As if I asked for this,_ Yut Lung thinks. He wants Sing to stop looking at him like that, it hurts. “He calls it _ài zhī dǎo_.”

Sing frowns. “Who’s _he?_ Why’s it called ‘island of love’?”

“His name is Hu Tianbao. The name “island of love” is kind of ironic, but also not really. It’s a little difficult to explain,” Yut Lung says, shifting uncomfortably. He had forgotten he would have to explain everything, too focused on the fact that _Sing is on his fucking island_ to think about what exactly that entails. 

“Who the fuck is Hu Tianbao?” Sing asks.

Yut Lung decides that the easiest way to go about this is to just get straight to the point. “Hu Tianbao is the god of love and sex between homosexual people. God of the gays, if you will,” he says, deadpan. 

Sing stares at him in silence for a moment, baffled. 

Yut Lung stares back, challenging. 

Sing stares for a moment longer. When he finally breaks the silence, he says, “What?” 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to tell you,” Yut Lung says. 

“There’s a gay god?” Sing asks. 

“Yes,” Yut Lung says. “Any other questions?”

“Yeah, a lot.” Sing lets out a frustrated sigh and collapses back into the mattress. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“I should make a list of questions for next time. They always ask the same ones,” Yut Lung says, half-joking, but maybe it would be a good idea. He can come up with better answers if he already knows what the questions are, right?

“Who’s they?” Sing asks, brows creased. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t start with that one,” Yut Lung says. “How about we go back to the ‘Where am I’ thing?”

“Okay,” Sing says. “Where am I?”

“ _Ài zhī dǎo._ ” 

Sing glares at him. Yut Lung huffs. “You’re on an undiscoverable island.” 

“Undiscoverable?” 

“Yes. No one knows where it is. Honestly, _I_ don’t even know where it is, and I live here. I just know that I’m on it.” 

“How did you get here, then? How did _I_ get here?” 

“The easiest answer to that is that Hu Tianbao brought you here. He also brought _me_ here.”

“What’s the harder answer?” 

“Let’s take a walk,” Yut Lung says, already starting to walk away, hoping Sing would follow. When he hears Sing shuffle out of bed to follow him, he sighs in relief. It would have been really embarrassing if he’d just stayed in bed. 

“That’s the answer? Let’s take a walk?” Sing asks when he catches up to him. 

“You should be a comedian, Sing,” Yut Lung says dryly. 

“Thanks, Yue - I’ll take it up as soon as I get out of here. Are you wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” 

“Yes,” Yut Lung says defensively. So what if his style has changed? This isn’t exactly sweater weather. “And what about it?” 

“Nothing about it,” Sing says. “Are you gonna explain now?”

Yut Lung strolls into the campfire area and ignores him. “This is what I call the ‘living area’. I hang out here a lot when I have nothing to do. Which is all the time. I am here... a lot of the time.”

Sing folds his arms over his chest, annoyed. “Looks great. Please explain now.” 

Yut Lung sighs heavily and lays down in one of the hammocks, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes. 

Sing sits on a log nearby and faces him, silent. Yut Lung can feel him brooding, and before the silence stretches too far, he turns his head to face Sing. 

“I woke up on this island on my 18th birthday. I had nothing with me - and I mean literally nothing. Like, I was completely naked, which I feel like is a really unnecessary side effect of ending up on this island. Anyway, when I woke up, Hu Tianbao was there, and he explained pretty much everything to me. He told me that someone had cursed me and that I was supposed to remain here for literally fucking forever, and then he gave me a tour and everything. Eventually, I figured out that Lee Wang Lung had cursed me just before he died. Or, you know. Just before I killed him.” Guilt tugs at his eyelids. 

“On this island, my body will stay young forever. My face won’t change but my mind will sag with age. And every three months, I have to beg whoever washes up to stay with me on this fucking island forever, I have to beg them not to leave me alone, and every three months, I have to watch them leave, because I’m simply not enough for them to leave everything behind. So to put this in terms of you, Sing,” Sing’s face, which had melted low, looked up at him, afraid. “I’m going to fall in love with you.”

Sing’s face was indecipherable, and Yut Lung could feel dread stirring beneath his skin. “I’m sorry, but I will. And then I am going to beg you to stay with me on this island forever, and you’re probably going to have a bit of a hard time saying ‘No’, but eventually, you’re going to say ‘No’ because no one wants to stay on an island in the middle of literal nowhere forever. And then I’m going to cry about it for a long time and you might, too, but probably not. And then it will happen again with another man. And my good friend Hu Tianbao - come out, you absolute piece of shit, I know you’re hiding somewhere - is the one who oversees it all. He’s the one who sent you to me. So if you want to blame anyone, blame him.” 

On cue, Hu Tianbao emerges from the trees, looking a mixture of sheepish and cocky, which just ends up pulling his face awkwardly. He’s wearing the exact same outfit as Yut Lung, which is kind of funny when it’s just the two of them, but now that Sing is here it just feels overwhelmingly embarrassing. 

“Uh… hello,” Sing says, sticking out his hand. “I’m Sing Soo-Ling.” 

The strange sheepish-cocky mixture on his face suddenly breaks into a wide, wicked sort of grin, and he shakes Sing’s hand in a manner that could only be described as flirtatious. Yut Lung’s eyes are threatening to roll all the way back into his skull. _That fucking slag._

“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” Hu Tianbao says, grinning still wider. “I’m Tu’Er Shen. God of the gays, and all that. You can just call me Tianbao.” 

“Okay,” Sing says, uncomfortably. Yut Lung has to suppress a laugh. “Can you tell me how I can get out of here? Everyone is probably worried about me,” Sing says, casting an apologetic glance in Yut Lung’s direction. _Shit._ He’d forgotten about that question! It was so obvious, too - how could he have forgotten?

“Oh, don’t worry about that! This island sort of doesn’t actually exist, so time isn’t actually real here. Your friends are all still waiting for everyone to come back up, but they haven’t been waiting that long. Time will start back up again as normal as soon as you go back.” Yut Lung shoots Hu Tianbao a dirty look - the implication that he will most certainly go back, even if he knows it’s true, still stings a little. Hu Tianbao only shrugs in return.

“ _Why_ did you send him here?” Yut Lung hisses at Hu Tianbao. Everything about this was doomed to fail - they certainly hadn’t parted on good terms, and now he was supposed to _fall in love with him?_ And he was supposed to try to make Sing _love him back?_ He would need a hell of a lot of crack to believe that Sing falling in love with him could even be a slight possibility.

(Sadly, there were no drugs to be found on the island. He’d asked Hu Tianbao about it once, but all he had said was, “Sorry, can’t help you there. I really only have control over things relating to homosexuality, and doing drugs doesn’t really have that much to do with being gay.” There wasn’t any alcohol either, so Yut Lung had been forced into sobriety.) 

“You seemed like you would be a good match! How was I supposed to know you didn’t want him here?” Hu Tianbao protests.

“You _did_ know! You know everything!” Yut Lung yells. 

Hu Tianbao grins. “Why, thank you. I do, in fact, know everything, so you just trust me on this, okay? It might turn out better than you think.” 

“It won’t.” All the anger has fallen out of him; he just feels defeated. The curse weighs heavy enough, and he knows this is just going to be another emotional drain. Maybe even more so than all the other ones. “Listen, I know him. He already wants to get the hell out of here, he just said so himself. None of them stayed, and he is the least likely out of all of them to stay. This is just going to end up making both of us miserable.” 

The grin peels off of Tianbao’s face, and he turns serious. He puts his hands on Yut Lung’s shoulders and looks at him. “Listen to me, Yue. Do not go into this with a closed heart. I know you’ve been hurt many times, and I take responsibility for that. But don’t push him away. You both were made to love. Even if he leaves, he can leave you with something bittersweet or he can leave you with something you regret. It’s your choice.” 

Yut Lung looks at Hu Tianbao for a moment, and then he pulls himself from his grip. “Just, just go back. I don’t need you here right now.” 

Hu Tianbao pauses for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says, and his eyes say he’s telling the truth. He disappears in a flurry of glitter and Yut Lung and Sing are left alone. 

Turning to Sing, Yut Lung says, “I’ll go make something to eat. Do you need anything else?” 

“I just want to go back,” Sing says quietly. Yut Lung feels his heart squeeze. 

“As I thought. Well, if that’s the case, a raft will appear onshore within a week, and it’ll take you back. I’m sorry to tell you we’ll be here together for a few days until then,” he says coldly. 

“I thought time wasn’t real here,” Sing says, missing the point again.

“It is a little bit. There are still days, and hours, but they don’t actually exist in the real world. The hours and days that pass on this island only pass on this island.”

“Huh,” Sing says, in a way that makes Yut Lung think he probably still doesn’t get it. 

Yut Lung sighs. “Just go back to your cave. I’ll start making dinner soon - I’ll call you when the food is ready. And if you need anything else, just tell me.” 

“Thanks,” Sing mutters, but Yut Lung doesn’t think he’s very thankful at all.

Sing goes, and Yut Lung closes his eyes. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup homos i took forever to post this i'm SORRY but we QUARANTINED now so i should be able to get these out faster !!! but also i'm going to be working on my rbb piece so my attention will be split between the two. for now i must say no promises but i'll try my gosh darn best
> 
> also i hate this whole chapter. i am embarrassed to post this but. i have to post something right

After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity and mourning the peace of mind Sing had just taken a giant shit on, Yut Lung forces himself to roll off of the hammock and drags himself into the kitchen. 

He stands at the fridge for a while, hand curled limply around the handle, wondering what he should make, and then it hits him - he has no idea what Sing likes to eat. For all his claims that he knows Sing, the fact that he doesn’t even know what he likes to have for dinner is a little embarrassing. 

Oh - Shorter’s gang had always liked to eat at his sister’s restaurant, right? Chang Dai, he thinks it was called. Why didn’t he think of Asian food to start with? There is no possible way Sing doesn’t like Asian food. Fried rice. Perfect! Yut Lung can definitely make fried rice.

He starts to cook. He’s gotten quite good, in all honesty - it took him a while to figure out everything when he first got to the island, but one of the first things he realised was that there wasn’t any sort of food service here. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Yut Lung would certainly classify his first few days on the island as desperate times. After a few days of burnt hands, borderline inedible food, and the discovery that vanilla beans do not taste as good as they smell, he had finally mastered the basics of cooking, and from there he mastered all sorts of recipes Hu Tianbao had so kindly provided him with.

Fried rice is delicious and easy to make - wash the rice, leave it in the rice cooker, chop the vegetables, wait until the rice is done. Once it is, toss some onions on a hot and greased wok, brown them a little, stir-fry the vegetables. Pile in the rice, pour in soy sauce, sweet soy sauce, salt to taste - and that’s it!

Yut Lung beams down at the fried rice. God, he should really be getting paid for this. 

He walks to Sing’s cave to let him know that dinner’s ready, and when he walks in, Sing is laying on his bed and holding - what?

“Are you reading the porn books?” Yut Lung asks incredulously. 

Sing yelps, slams the book shut, and tosses it over the side of the bed. Then, very seriously, he says, “No.” 

Yut Lung stares at him. Sing avoids his gaze. 

“I just don’t understand why,” Yut Lung says, still bewildered. He won’t pretend like he hasn’t given them a curious read or two, (you try entertaining yourself when you’re alone on an island with very few options for things to do) but after reading the first few lines of the first book and discovering that it was a horrifying rendition of the seventh Harry Potter book, in which Draco and Harry have horribly written sex in the Prefect’s Bathroom, he had promptly closed the book and vowed to never go near any of them ever again. 

“Well, I mean, come on,” Sing splutters. “Entertainment seems like it’s a little limited. It’s not like I was getting off on them, or anything. I mean, they weren’t even that interesting. Well, some parts were definitely, um, interesting, but like, I mean, it’s just, they were just  _ there, _ I mean, what else was I supposed to do, you know? I mean…” Sing fumbles with his words, and then seems to drop them completely. He stares at the floor, like he’s wondering if it’s worth trying to pick them back up and save himself. 

Yut Lung curls his lip. “You know you could have just asked me what there was to do on the island. I have books that aren’t  _ erotic fanfiction.  _ I also have art supplies, and a type-writer, for all your early 20th-century writer fantasies. I also have a lot of board games, if the occasion ever arises where we would, uh. Play a board game together. The point is that you don’t need to submit yourself - pun intended - to this literary garbage." 

Sing flushes, and Yut Lung holds in a laugh. “Well, I just came here to tell you that dinner was ready, but it seems you’re hungry for something else. Shall I leave you to it?” 

Sing’s face is crimson now, and Yut Lung is almost afraid that he’ll burst a vein. “No! No, I’m really hungry. For dinner. I want to eat food. Uh, thank you.” Sing scrambles out of bed, straightening his clothes, and Yut Lung tries to muffle his laughter. He receives a half-hearted glare from Sing for his efforts, which he ignores as he leads the way to the kitchen. 

When they arrive, Yut Lung grabs plates and utensils from the cupboards and puts them on one of the picnic benches nearest to the kitchen. When he starts to dish out the fried rice and Sing has still said nothing, he starts to get nervous.  _ Does it look bad? What if he doesn’t like it? _

If Yut Lung is very honest with himself, which he rarely is, he may actually start crying if Sing doesn’t like it. Of course, Sing’s opinion doesn’t matter at all, but it’s just the principle of someone not liking his food, not Sing specifically, of course. 

With his stomach feeling like it’s doing its very best to immediately liquefy all of his organs, he spoons the rice onto the plates. He puts the wok and leftover rice in the middle of the table and glances up. Sing is looking down at his plate. 

Yut Lung shifts, and Sing’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Did you make this?”

Yut Lung searches Sing’s face for hostile intent, and after finding what seems to be none, he says, “Yes.”

“By yourself?” Sing asks, disbelieving. 

Yut Lung lifts his chin. “Yes, by myself.”

“Damn.” 

Sing says it strangely, almost like he isn’t mad at all. Like he’s actually impressed. Which is odd, Yut Lung thinks, because although admittedly, they’ve done okay, at least for the last hour or two, there’s still something unspoken between them, simmering in the sand. How can they speak so casually, after everything? How can he make a meal for Sing, and eat it like nothing is wrong, like they hadn’t left things the way that they did?

How can he, how can Sing?

And yet here they are, and Sing has started to eat Yut Lung’s fried rice, and the sand still feels hotter than usual. 

“This is really good,” Sing says enthusiastically. So enthusiastically, in fact, that Yut Lung can see the half-chewed rice in his mouth, and he tries not to cringe in disgust. 

“Thank you,” Yut Lung says, internally releasing a sigh of relief. He knew it would be good, but there was all that business with opinions and such, so it’s nice to have some confirmation. 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and Yut Lung knows  _ It’s not awkward until you say it is,  _ but Jesus, this is so unbearably awkward that Yut Lung wishes he could tie their vocal chords into knots so that they would have an excuse for the silence. 

Yut Lung tries to focus on his food, but the more he concentrates, the harder it feels to eat. Picking rice up with a spoon seems like a terribly tiresome task, and time doesn’t seem to be at all willing to speed up. 

He wants to say something, anything, but he’s terrified that any attempts at conversation are going to fall flat and his words are going to try and force themselves back down his throat and then he’ll start choking in the middle of their silent and horrible dinner, and Sing is just going to watch as he slowly loses consciousness and then he will pass out in his fried rice and then things will be truly, tremendously awful. 

Maybe not, he thinks. And then Sing says this: “So how many other guys have there been? How long have you been here?” 

Yut Lung almost actually chokes on his rice. He makes a vague noise and flaps his hands around to indicate to Sing that he needs to finish swallowing before he can respond, and he makes sure to take his time chewing, because he needs a moment or two to mentally prepare himself for any sort of conversation with Sing about his love life. 

Once he swallows, he steels himself, and decides to just dive straight in. “There have been three, so far. You’re my fourth. I’ve been here since October last year, or something. I don’t really understand how time works here, but basically what I’ve understood from Hu Tianbao is that he doesn’t really like to get mixed up with time on this island and time outside of it, but he also still doesn’t really want to make these guys leave their homes and such for possibly up to three months. Because of this, what he does is while the guys are here, time in the real world doesn’t pass. Once they leave, then he kind of … syncs up the time. I’ll go to sleep the night before I’m supposed to have some other boy come, have some very  weird dreams, and then I talk to Hu Tianbao the next day and he’s all like, ‘By the way, three months have now passed in the real world! Also, your next guest should be arriving soon.’” Yut Lung shrugs. “If that was confusing for you, it’s probably because I haven’t entirely grasped the concept either.” 

Sing’s eyebrows are pulled so tightly together they look like one large eyebrow. “Right…”

Yut Lung sighs. “It’s okay, you don’t need to understand. You’ll be out of here in a week, anyway.” 

Sing stares at him. Yut Lung looks away. 

“Who were they?” Sing asks, clearly moved on from the topic of time on the island. “Did you know any of them before they came?”

“No,” Yut Lung says, already absolutely hating the thought of having a conversation with Sing about all the gay lovers he’s had on the island. “You’re the first one, hence why I was angry at Hu Tianbao. These things tend to go very badly for me, and the fact that it’s… well, the fact that it’s  _ you _ is probably not going to make it any better for me.”

Sing’s face turns unreadable, and Yut Lung shifts uncomfortably. 

“What were the other ones like?” Sing asks.

Yut Lung is quiet for a moment. “I don’t really know how to answer that.”

Sing blinks, startled, and then rushes, “Oh, I mean, you don’t have to. Sorry, that was really invasive. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Yut Lung warms. “No, I just meant… I just meant that’s a really broad question. If you want a coherent answer you need to ask more specific questions.”

Sing thinks for a second, and then he says, “What did they look like?”

The question startles Yut Lung into a laugh. “My, my, Sing. I had no idea you were so superficial. I’m afraid I can’t really answer that - I don’t exactly have pictures.”

Sing reddens, but seems determined now. “Describe them."

Yut Lung grins. “Well, if you insist. The first one. Hm… his name was Adam, and he was white, which I’m usually not a fan of, but, well…” Yut Lung trails off, thinking briefly of Ash, and then shakes his head. “I suppose there have been a few exceptions. Adam was certainly one of them - he was like the perfect white boy. Great smile, curly brown hair, dimples, the whole package. Very muscular. He stayed for a month before inevitably deciding to go back. I was terribly, terribly in love with him.” Yut Lung sighs wistfully.

Adam was kind, and patient, and his arms were strong and his eyes sparkled in a way Yut Lung hadn’t seen on anyone in a long, long time. Adam was refreshing, honey-dew sweet. Yut Lung missed him sometimes, still.  He was too kind to last, of course - he had friends and family to return to, and when he sailed back it rained for days, turning the sand a wet, muddy brown. 

Sing looks almost annoyed when Yut Lung returns from his jaunt down memory lane.  Why would he be angry? He’s the one who asked for this.

“How do you fall in love with someone in a month?” Sing asks doubtfully.

Yut Lung rolls his eyes. “Nice attitude. I think you’d be surprised at how quickly it happens. Staying on an island with someone alone for up to three months is more than enough time to fall in love.” 

Sing’s face is hardening, and Yut Lung can feel his stomach cave in. He’s not at fault here, right? Sing is the one that asked the question. 

After a few seconds of tense chewing, Sing swallows and says, “And the others?”

Yut Lung contemplates if it would even be a good idea to continue talking, considering Sing wasn’t exactly jumping with joy when he was talking about Adam, but he decides that the consequences of not talking would be greater than if he continued to talk, so he keeps going.

“The second one would never have worked long term, even if that was an option. His name was Ahmad and he was Indonesian and he hated me as soon as he stepped foot on the island. He spat every slur known to man in my face while I gave him clothes, fed him three times a day, made sure he was comfortable. Obviously the last part was a little difficult, but I really was trying my best. Of course, I lost my temper a number of times - it’s not like there were any rules forbidding me from shitting on this guy every time I could, but I honestly wasn’t trying to torture him, or anything. He had a  _ lot _ of deeply-rooted internalised homophobia. Uh…” Yut Lung trails off, remembering where this story goes. He ponders for a second, and then decides to just lay it all out and see how Sing reacts.

“Long story short, we ended up fucking. It was… extremely angry sex. I had scratches for weeks, and they never fucking healed, because this kept happening every. Single. Day.” Sing suddenly drops his spoon, and it clatters loudly against his plate. Yut Lung is struggling to keep a straight face - Sing looks like a strange breed of constipated and disgusted. “For a few weeks that was what constituted the majority of our interactions, other than meals. He tried to go home in the first week, but the raft never came. Hu Tianbao told me that was because he didn’t actually want to go back, which was unsurprising, really, considering my razor-sharp wit and irresistible charm, but I couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.”   


Sing’s face has turned an impossible mix of ashy and burning red. What a spectrum of emotions Sing must be going through, and all because he asked Yut Lung to talk about his exes. 

“We fell into a terrible, fucked up kind of love. We were dependent on each other for nothing but sex and company and neither of our minds were in good places. He stayed for over two months.” 

Ahmad’s departure had hit him differently. Yut Lung thinks about him sometimes, too, and he wonders if Ahmad ever does the same. 

He hopes not. 

“Are you satisfied?” Yut Lung asks, even though it seems like the answer isn’t nearly as simple as  _ yes _ or  _ no. _

“Yes,” Sing says, strained. 

“I’m glad to hear that. I think I’m about done talking for tonight. Shouldn’t you be sharing, now? An eye for an eye, and all.” 

Sing flushes.  _ Gotcha.  _ “I, well, there’s not really much to say. Nothing at all, actually.” 

Sing seems to harden. “I haven’t really had time for romance, and honestly, I have no problem with that. I have enough to worry about. Or, I mean, I did. Now I have an even bigger problem that somehow swallowed all my other problems.” 

That one stings, if Yut Lung is totally honest. Obviously, he understands that being trapped on an island with someone you hadn’t exactly parted on good terms with isn’t really an ideal situation, but is it really that bad? This is a literal paradise! If anything, it’s a nice opportunity for Sing to step back from the stress of gang life for a while. 

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m trying to make this as painless as possible for both of us, okay? I made you dinner, I gave you a tour, I said I was here if you needed anything, and I didn’t just say that to be polite. So I’m sorry if you’re having a terrible time, but that’s nothing to do with me.” Yut Lung stands up, grabbing their now-empty plates and carrying them to the sink. He hadn’t meant to get that angry, but the weight of the entire situation had been pushing him closer and closer to the ground, and there was bound to be some sort of collapse eventually. 

“Hey, I-” Sing starts, but Yut Lung cuts him off. 

“Forget it. Just go.”

Yut Lung hears Sing sigh from behind him. “Okay. Um, before I do, can you tell me where the bathroom is? I really need to take a shit.”

Yut Lung freezes. After thinking quickly, he whirls around from where he was standing at the sink, and silently points at the sea. Sing turns to follow where’s pointing, and slowly turns back, horror dawning on his face.

Yut Lung keeps his face perfectly serious.

“You’re kidding, right?” Sing asks, sounding very afraid.

“Not at all. It’s not so bad after a while. You can even set up a nice station for yourself,” Yut Lung says. 

Sing’s stomach keens in protest. Yut Lung almost cracks.

“You don’t even have an outhouse? I thought this was supposed to be a paradise,” Sing says mournfully. 

“Not for the faint of heart. Man up, Sing. The water is right there, so you can wash your ass when you’re done.”

Sing’s face crumples, near tears. “That is so fucking gross.”

“Good god, Sing, where has your dignity gone? Imagine if your gang found out their revered boss was reduced to tears after hearing he’d have to shit in the sea!” Yut Lung chides.

Sing’s face unfolds into something miserable, but he stays silent.

Yut Lung feels like he’s probably gotten as much enjoyment out of this as he can. “If I had known you would be this upset, I would have just let you use my bathroom.”

Sing’s face changes in an instant, transforming from sorrowful into hopeful, and then quickly into  _ pissed. _

“You bastard. You better let me use it,” Sing fumes. 

Yut Lung pretends to think. “I don’t know. I guess as long as you promise not to stink up the place. It’s attached to my bedroom, so I will be the one facing the after-effects, while you just get to enjoy my luxury bathroom and then leave.” 

“I literally don’t know how I can promise you that.”

Yut Lung laughs. “Just take a shower after. And lock the door so we don’t have any mishaps.” 

Sing gives Yut Lung a look, and then he runs away towards Yut Lung’s villa. 

Yut Lung sighs.  _ Just one week, _ he reminds himself.

Just one week. 

☼

Sing blinks awake against the soft sunlight filtering through the room. The crystal pride flag above his bed is shining lights across his duvet, and his skin is warm beneath the covers. For a moment, Sing wonders if he’s in a strange sort of dream, and then he remembers. 

Yue. The island. Hu Tianbao. 

Sing closes his eyes again. His subconscious self has clearly allowed the overload of information from yesterday to properly sink in, and he sighs. What the ever-living  _ fuck. _

“Oh, you’re awake! Did you sleep well?”

Sing screams for the second time in 24 hours. This is really starting to get embarrassing, so he forces his mouth shut, and finally sees Hu Tianbao curled up in a chair by the foot of his bed, looking amused. 

“Oh my god,” Sing says, clutching his chest, as if he’ll be able to stop his heart from pounding if he squeezes hard enough. “You scared me. What the fuck, dude?”

Hu Tianbao grins. “Sorry about that. You’ll probably get used to me popping in unexpectedly from time to time. From many time, even. This island is like, the best entertainment I can get.”

Sing frowns, still kind of annoyed the fact that he’s now embarrassed himself in front of both Yut Lung  _ and  _ Hu Tianbao, and it’s barely been a day. “Okay… did you need something? What are you doing here?”

Hu Tianbao clutches his chest in mock-hurt. “You wound me! I just wanted to talk to you for a little while - you know, get to know you and all that. I’m sorry for scaring you, I swear I wasn’t trying to.”

Sing sinks further into his mattress. “Okay, sure. I accept your apology. What did you wanna talk about?”

“Well, honestly, I wanted to talk to you about Yue.” 

Sing groans. 

“Hey, see? This is the reason. Listen, just hear me out, okay? I know you two didn’t really end well," Sing's eyebrows crease at that, "but try to bear with him for a bit. Stay for a little longer. I promise it’ll turn out better than you think.” Hu Tianbao looks serious. The fact that Sing hasn’t seen him look serious until now is probably a sign that Sing should be taking his words into consideration, but it’s just that he’s not really giving advice that Sing  _ wants _ to listen to.

“I’m hearing you out,” Sing lies, “but I just don’t think you’re right about this. I can’t just spend my days here frolicking around. My boys need me in New York, okay? And I know you said time is paused or whatever but first of all, I don’t even know if that’s true. I mean, how is that even possible? Also, there’s nothing to do here. Beaches are fun and all, but the only person I can go to the beach with is Yue, and I’m not exactly in the Lee Yut Lung Fan Club. And it’s pretty obvious he’s not in the Sing Soo Ling Fan Club, either. I just wanna go home.”

Hu Tianbao sighs. “Everything I told you about the island is true. I know you don’t really have any reason to believe me, but I don’t really have any reason to lie, either, or even to keep you on this island. Honestly, it would make more sense if I was trying to get you off of the island, since Yue is always happier to see me when he’s the only one on the island, but I just have a feeling about you, okay? Stop being so determined to leave. You might even get a little something out of the whole experience,” he says, opening his mouth and pretending to shake salt in it.

Sing wrinkles his nose. “Jesus Christ. Why would you say that?”

“Quite frankly, Sing, Yue is often sexually frustrated. Of course, I’m usually able to help him out, but he never wants my help when he’s got a boy on the island. The task is yours alone,” Hu Tianbao says solemnly.

Sing’s face twists even more. The idea of Yut Lung and Hu Tianbao having sex feels… wrong. “That sounds like a Yue problem. I’m more than willing to lend him the erotica you so kindly put on my bedside table.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve given him his own collection, but he finds it distasteful.” Hu Tianbao sniffs. “It was top-tier erotica, too! The nerve of him.”

“The nerve,” Sing echoes, quietly disgusted. “I’d like to stop talking about Yue’s sex life, now, if that’s okay with you. Is there anything else you want?”

“Well, yes. Mainly agreement that you will not leave at the earliest possible opportunity, but it seems like that will take more convincing than a conversation as soon as you wake up.”

“No amount of convincing is going to make me stay on this island for longer than I have to.”

“That’s exactly what Ahmad said. Granted, I have a feeling you two would do much better than they did, but the cards are in your hands.”

“I am going to throw the cards away,” Sing says. 

“Okay,” Hu Tianbao says lightly, sounding like he doesn’t believe Sing at all. “One last thing, just as like, a courtesy - do you have any other questions you want me to answer?”

Sing has many questions, but there’s only one occupying his mind right now - “What exactly is your relationship with Yue?”

Hu Tianbao smirks. “I see the type of person you are. What an interesting question to ask after insisting you would be leaving as soon as possible.” 

Sing’s eyes widen when he realises the implications of what he just asked. “No! No! I was just wondering about, you know, the logistics of that. I mean, is a god allowed to have sex with a human? I know they did that in Greek mythology, but I just wasn’t sure about Chinese mythology. Also, is that even allowed, since it’s your island, and he’s on it? It’s like a boss and their employee having sex. That shouldn’t be allowed, right?” Sing sounds like he’s scrambling, and he knows it, but what is he supposed to do? Those are actually the reasons he asked!

Hu Tianbao snickers. “Okay, whatever you say! Well, the answer is pretty much that yes, gods are allowed to have sex with humans, but it’s frowned upon, kind of for the reason you said, except it’s not like boss and employee, it’s like… Jesus Christ and employee. A little bit of a weird dynamic, but we all have our needs, and so do humans, so they can usually let it slide. Yue and I just have sex occasionally in order to satiate those needs, and obviously never while he has company. Basically like a friends with benefits thing, so no need to worry. You’re in the clear.”

Sing frowns. “It wasn’t about me being in the clear. I was just wondering.”

Hu Tianbao nods understandingly. “Gotcha. I’m glad you’re well-informed now.” Sing glares.

“Well, I guess it’s time I head off. If you ever need me, all you need to do is dance around in a circle three times while chanting, ‘Hu Tianbao has the best dick ever!’ and I’ll be there.”

There is nothing Sing could possibly say in response to that. 

Hu Tianbao grins. “Just kidding. You just need to call my name if you ever need me, but if you say I have the best dick ever I’ll be in a better mood when I arrive. Pro-tip.”

“Okay,” Sing says blankly. 

“See you around!” Hu Tianbao says, and then he disappears.

“What the fuck,” Sing says, and closes his eyes again. 

☼

When he finally gets out of bed, Sing finds Yut Lung on one of a cluster of beach chairs by the ocean, wearing large round sunglasses, no shirt, and sipping a glass of orange juice. 

Sing stands behind him for a while, the sun casting his shadow away from the chairs, and tries to decide how he should make his presence known. Should he go for a casual greeting? He’s looking very relaxed. It would be a real shame if Sing spoiled that by-

_ “Boo!” _

Yut Lung shrieks, and the glass in his hand somehow manages to stay in his grip, but a lot of the actual drink ends up all over him. Slowly, he turns his head to face Sing, and he’s sure it’s for dramatic effect, but Sing can’t help but feel glued to the sand beneath his feet. 

Yut Lung’s glare is venomous, and Sing averts his eyes to avoid instant death, only to notice the orange juice dripping off of Yut Lung’s skin and onto the cobalt fabric of the beach chair. 

Sing looks down at the sand.

“Why.” Yut Lung’s tone is frozen. 

“I’m sorry,” Sing says quietly, and it was a joke, a harmless one, but he is. In this moment, he is very sorry, and very, very afraid.

“Sorry my  _ ass. _ Sing, there is orange juice on my crotch. What the absolute  _ fuck. _ ” Yut Lung glares.

Sing’s eyes inadvertently flick to, well. His crotch. Of course, once he realises what he’s doing, he tears his gaze away, but it’s too late.

“Did you just look at my crotch? Oh my god.” Yut Lung sighs, disgusted, and turns his attention back to his orange juice-covered chest.

“I wasn’t trying to! It’s just, you mentioned it, and my eyes work faster than my brain, so it’s not my fault, okay?” Sing stumbles his way through a defense, and he’s pretty sure there is still no one convinced of his innocence.

Yut Lung rolls his eyes. “That’s literally not possible. Jesus, Sing, it’s a good thing you’re not actually in love with me or anything, because you’d really be blowing it right now if you were.”

Sing lours, even though nothing he said was technically a lie. Sing isn’t in love with him, or anything. And he would be blowing it. But still, what gives?

“Don’t tell me your feelings are hurt. Good fucking god. I’m going to wash myself off. Don’t wait up.” Yut Lung jogs off towards the water, and of course Sing doesn’t move, because he has nowhere to go, and also he really wants some breakfast. 

Yut Lung jogs back, now dripping, and a frown lines his face. “I thought I told you not to wait up.”

“Where else was I supposed to go? Also, I’m hungry.”

Yut Lung seems to take a minute to compose himself. “Okay. I’ll make us some breakfast, and then you can just do whatever you want.” 

“Sounds good,” Sing says, and they start walking towards the kitchen area. Sing glances over at Yut Lung, and his eyes snag on Yut Lung’s shoulders, glistening milk-white beneath the sun. 

“Do you ever get sunburned?” Sing asks, because he can feel the sun soaking into his shirt, and if Yut Lung’s been on this island for almost a year and he’s still porcelain pale, then where does the sun soak into?

“Hm? Oh, not really. Hu Tianbao thought of almost everything - the sun is never hot enough to burn your skin, but it’s always hot enough to warm it. Also, the water is always the perfect temperature, and there aren’t even any bugs! The island actually has a lot to offer, but I can’t imagine you’d care too much anyway, considering you’ll be leaving soon, anyway,” Yut Lung says dismissively. 

“Hey, I’m here for the next few days, right? Please, sir, would you do me the favor of telling me more about the secrets of this island?” Sing looks at Yut Lung, pleading, and clasps his hands together. 

Yut Lung rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you owe me for this. Before you leave you better cook me something.”

“It will be attempted,” Sing swears, even though he has never cooked in his life. 

“Good. Well, everything is designed to make it as pleasant as possible. The sand is never too hot, it’s easy to walk on, and I once discovered while I was having a very intense existential crisis that the sand is actually perfect for building sandcastles with, even without buckets,” Yut Lung says, sounding almost proud. Sing grins.

“Oh my god, are you serious? In that case, I know what I’m gonna be doing for the rest of the day,” Sing says, and Yut Lung glares.

“Fuck off. There are some things about this island that you simply won’t ever understand due to the length of your stay, and intense existential crises are one of them,” Yut Lung says haughtily.

“I sincerely apologise,” Sing says, wide-eyed. “Please, tell me more.” 

Yut Lung scowls, but clearly, his desire to keep talking is overpowering his anger towards Sing, so he does tell him more. “I know it doesn’t really seem like it at first, but there are actually lots of things to do on the island. I don’t mean to brag, but-”

“You do,” Sing interrupts.

Yut Lung stares at him for a moment, opens his mouth, and then closes it again. “You’re right. I just said that in order to seem courteous, but it seems I don’t have to keep up appearances around you. How nice. As I was saying, Hu Tianbao is very gracious and he’ll usually give me something if I ask nicely enough. I think he feels bad that I’m stuck on this island for all of eternity, which I’ll admit isn’t really an ideal situation, but who am I to complain when I get all this free stuff? He won’t give me alcohol, though, which is highly irritating. Or drugs. Not even adderall. Bastard,” Yut Lung mutters. 

“What kind of stuff has he given you?” Sing asks.

“Well, actually, the best things he’s given me are my - well, let’s keep it a surprise, shall we? Do you want to take a quick detour to my place?”

“Uh… sure.”

And then Sing is being dragged towards Yut Lung’s villa, and when they finally arrive, Yut Lung takes him into a room that Sing hadn’t seen the entrance to the last time he was here, just by his bed frame. 

The room is nothing grand, but every wall is covered with fish tanks, fish of every hue swimming through blue water, swaying kelp, bubblegum pink coral. At the end of the room, there’s a tank lit up yellow, illuminating white shells, tangerine claws, and little beady eyes - inside the tank are what are quite possibly the two cutest hermit crabs in existence. 

“Dude,” Sing says. “They are so fucking cute.”

Yut Lung is beaming so hard Sing wonders if he has somehow turned into the sun. “I know, right? This is Wu,” Yut Lung says, pointing at the crab on the left, “And this is Bao,” he says, pointing at the crab on the right, “And I love them more than life itself. Now, I know that isn’t saying much, but you need to trust me. I love them so much.”

“I love them, too,” Sing says, grinning. “Absolute cuties. How long have you had them for?”

“A few months or so. I can usually ask if I need anything, but I didn’t know I needed them until then. And now I can’t imagine life without them.” He sighs fondly. 

“Am I allowed to schedule regular visits?” Sing asks.

Yut Lung scrutinizes Sing. “I suppose. There will be terms, of course, but we can discuss those over breakfast. Shall we?”

“We shall,” Sing says, and they go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok look i KNOW harry potter didnt exist when this takes place just suspend your disbelief and let me have this cameo
> 
> please leave a comment or a kudo!!!! srsly it makes my month <33
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/grey_x_green) or [tumblr](https://grey-x-green.tumblr.com/) !!!! lub u guys


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiii so i lied again about being quicker with this chapter ,,, quarantine is a killer and i've been trying to focus on my rbb fic !!!! BUT HERE I DID IT OKAY SO PLS BE SATISFIED FOR NOW I ACTUALLY PROMISE NEXT CHAPTER WILL COME QUICKER

Yut Lung supposes things could be worse. Breakfast was perfectly pleasant, and it almost seems like they’re both sort of warming up to each other. 

But things are still sort of odd, and Sing is still Sing and Yut Lung is still Yut Lung, so he has a few words to say to Hu Tianbao. 

“How could you do this? You didn’t even consult me first!” Yut Lung hisses, and then hits the button on the blender before Hu Tianbao has a chance to respond. 

Hu Tianbao glares at him, and Yut Lung smiles smugly as he stares at the strawberries and mango slicing into the milk and turning into a punch pink smoothie. 

He takes his finger off the button, and Hu Tianbao manages to say, “Look, Yue - ” before Yut Lung presses the button again, and Hu Tianbao shuts his mouth, looking irritated. 

Yut Lung lifts his finger, and Hu Tianbao tries again. “You don’t - ” Yut Lung presses the button. Hu Tianbao fumes, and then once Yut Lung has taken his finger off, he opens his mouth.

Yut Lung moves to press the button again, but Hu Tianbao grabs his hand away from the blender before he can reach it. 

“Look, Yue, you don’t - ” Yut Lung presses the button with his other hand. He sees Hu Tianbao mouth, “For fuck’s sake!” and then both of his hands are seized by Hu Tianbao. 

Yut Lung lours. “Are you holding my hands? What, are you gay or something?”

Hu Tianbao ignores this, but lets go of his hands. “Listen, Yue, you don’t understand. I can see your compatibility levels, and they are through the roof! Seriously, you need to give him a chance.”

“No, _you_ don’t understand. Do you really think he’s gonna fucking stay on this island? He’ll be gone by the end of the week, he said so himself. Literally the last thing I needed on this godforsaken island was someone from my past, and what do I get? Tianbao, I need you to stop trying to convince him to stay, okay? Neither of us wants that to happen.” Yut Lung pours the smoothie into glasses. 

Hu Tianbao looks down at the three smoothie glasses he just poured. “You want him to leave so badly you made him a smoothie?”

Yut Lung scowls at him. “I made a regular amount of smoothie and there happened to be too much. It’s there if he would like it, of course, because I have manners, but it wasn’t specifically intended for him. He’s probably still wallowing in his cave, so he won’t even be here to drink it, anyway.”

Hu Tianbao stares doubtfully at the third smoothie glass. “So if he doesn’t show up, then it’s okay if I drink it?”

“No.” Yut Lung curls his lip. “I made three glasses. Why do you need more than one? I’ll just keep the extra in the fridge,” he says, and puts the third glass in the fridge before Hu Tianbao can lick it, or something.

“Right,” Hu Tianbao says, sipping his smoothie. 

“While we’re talking about Sing, can you stop wearing the same clothes as I am while he’s here? It’s getting embarrassing,” Yut Lung says. 

Hu Tianbao sighs theatrically and looks into the distance. “I see how it is. You only want me when there’s no one else around. I suppose that applies to our fun little games, too. Well, as you wish. I will change immediately.”

“Oh, come on,” Yut Lung says defensively. “We look like an obnoxious gay couple. Of course it doesn’t matter when we’re the only ones here, but it’s different when there - oh god what the fuck,” Yut Lung bursts, quickly averting his eyes, as Hu Tianbao has emerged from a cloud of glitter in full bondage get-up, leather corset and all. 

“You asked me to stop wearing the same clothes,” Hu Tianbao says sweetly. 

“For god’s sake, Tianbao. Put some fucking clothes on,” Yut Lung demands, eyes still anywhere but him. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Hu Tianbao says carelessly. “I’m not sure why you’re complaining, anyway.”

Yut Lung rolls his eyes, and then he spots Sing walking over some distance away, and panics. “Tianbao! Sing is coming over here. Please put on some clothes, I’m begging you.”

“How is that supposed to convince me? You think I’m going to stop looking this sexy to save face in front of the future love of your life?”

“Oh my god, _please._ Go quickly!” Yut Lung pleads, but he knows it’s too late, Sing is already just a few meters away, and judging by the look on his face, he has definitely already seen Hu Tianbao’s outrageous outfit. 

“You know it’s too late for that,” Hu Tianbao says smugly, and Yut Lung wants to scream.

When Sing finally walks into the kitchen area, Yut Lung is just about ready to burst into tears.

“Hey guys,” Sing says, visibly uncomfortable. “I was just hungry.” 

“What perfect timing!” Hu Tianbao beams. “Yue and I just finished making smoothies.”

“You mean _I_ just finished making smoothies. You just stood there and watched,” Yut Lung accuses, and then turns to Sing. “Also, how are you hungry already? We had breakfast like an hour ago.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Sing says seriously. 

Yut Lung looks at Hu Tianbao, aghast. “He’s still a boy! This isn’t even legal!”

Hu Tianbao scoffs. “Oh, please. Your age difference is barely noticeable. If anything, he looks older than you do. It also may have slipped your mind that we are also on a literal undiscoverable island. There aren’t any laws here.”

“Yeah, and since when have you been such a law-abiding citizen?” Sing says accusingly, and Yut Lung starts to feel a little like he’s being ganged up on. “You know, we’re basically the same ages as Ash and Eiji were when they met.”

Yut Lung gives Sing a black look. “You’re not helping.”

Sing shrugs. “I was just stating a fact.” 

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Yut Lung whines. 

“Why?” Sing asks. “To make it easier for you to fall in love with me? No thanks,” he says, wrinkling his nose. 

“ _No!_ ” Yut Lung almost yells. “You’re supposed to be on my side to convince him that that _won’t_ happen."

“You two are already turning out to be fantastic entertainment,” Hu Tianbao says delightedly. “Imagine what this will be like once you fuck.”

Yut Lung and Sing exchange half stunned, half horrified glances, and Hu Tianbao bursts into gleeful laughter. 

Yut Lung grabs Hu Tianbao’s arm and starts to squeeze until he stops laughing and yells, “Ow! What the fuck?”

Yut Lung grabs Hu Tianbao’s face and turns it towards his. He looks him straight in the eye and says, “Hu Tianbao. Stop pulling this shit right now. You have already fucked with both of us enough. Please stop saying whatever spawns in your fucking septic tank of a mind.” 

Hu Tianbao is the first to break eye contact, and Yut Lung can’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction. “I understand. I’ll do my best to censor myself from here on out, but you’ll have to forgive me for the occasional slip-up every now and again.” 

“That will be dependent on the slip-up,” Yut Lung says, and glances back at Sing, whose eyes are flitting back and forth between him and Hu Tianbao, eyebrows wrinkled. 

“What is it, Sing?” Yut Lung asks. 

Sing pauses for a moment, flicking one last glance at both of them before landing on Yut Lung again. “It’s just that… I mean,” he says, turning to Hu Tianbao. “Aren’t you supposed to be a god? I mean, what’s with this power dynamic?”

Hu Tianbao suddenly bends double and starts to cough, very suddenly and violently, and Yut Lung thumps his back once, twice, and on the third thump he stands upright again, tears in his eyes. “Sorry, almost choked there. I just realised that interaction made me look like a complete bottom, and believe me, I am not. I am definitely not the bottom here.”

Yut Lung folds his arms. “Let’s not get too high and mighty here. You’re like, a soft top, at best. You’re _barely_ a top.”

Hu Tianbao’s nostrils flare. “I don’t think we need to have this discussion right now.”

Yut Lung smirks. “You’re the one who started it. Interesting that this is the one conversation you don’t want to have in front of Sing.” 

Hu Tianbao huffs, but says nothing. 

Yut Lung raises his eyebrows. “Alright then. I’ll get you your smoothie, Sing, and you can be on your merry way. Sorry to bring you into all of that.” He pulls the fridge door open, grabs the smoothie, and places it on the counter. 

Sing shakes his head and picks up the smoothie. “It’s fine. I think I get what Hu Tianbao means when he says we’re entertaining to watch. I kinda feel the same way watching you guys.” 

Yut Lung stares at Sing, unsure as to how he can respond. “I don’t really know how to interpret that,” he says. 

Sing shrugs. “Doesn’t need to be interpreted. Just take it as it is.” He takes a sip of his smoothie. “Delicious. Thanks for this,” Sing says, raising the glass, and starts to walk away. “If you need me, I’ll be at the beach.”

Yut Lung doesn’t know why he would possibly need Sing, and the entire shore of the island is a beach, but he says, “Okay,” anyway. 

“Simp,” Hu Tianbao says, and Yut Lung hits him. 

☼

Sing is bored.

He feels a little bad about it, to be honest, given all the suggestions Yut Lung had so courteously provided him with yesterday, but he’s too embarrassed to actually take most of them seriously. Like, what was he supposed to do with art supplies? Sing is no painter, and he has no plans to become one. And, really, board games? These may be desperate times, but Sing doesn’t think he needs to be subjected to measures quite so desperate yet. 

He was, however, weirdly tempted by the idea of the typewriter. He’s never really been a writer - when would he have the time to write? It’s not like gang life really allowed for a chance to sit down and write a novel. 

But, well, he doesn’t know. Typewriters have a strange sort of charm to them, one Sing doesn’t really know how to put into words. Something about the immediacy of it, not having to wait until everything is done to have it printed and ink-fresh, combined with a healthy awareness of the fact that if you fuck up, it’s gonna look stupid forever. Something about that makes for a strange sort of seduction. 

After a few minutes of deliberation, Sing decides he kind of just needs to suck it up and ask Yut Lung for the typewriter. Is it really that embarrassing? At its bare essentials, the desire for a typewriter in itself really isn’t, and Sing realises that it’s more the fact that he’s taking one of Yut Lung’s suggestions seriously that’s causing significant damage to his pride. 

Maybe this also has something to do with the fact that they were suggested in place of the, um, erotic fanfiction. Maybe it has something to do with that. 

Regardless, Sing is going to accept the fact that there doesn’t seem to be much of a concept of pride on this island, considering he had recently seen a _god,_ you know, like someone who resides in the heavens and has incredible powers of healing and destruction, dressed in _full bondage get-up._ With seemingly no shame at all! How incredible is that?

So Sing marches (or at least tries to walk semi-confidently and not in the weirdly nervous way he feels) to Yut Lung’s beach hut, but it’s a long walk, and he gives up trying to be sure of himself midway through and just walks as if he’s dreading arrival at his destination. Which, quite frankly, he is. 

When he finally does, though, he has regained his courage enough to knock somewhat firmly on the door. When he hears Yut Lung say, “Come in!” he pushes the door open, only to find the room empty. 

“Yue?” he calls, wondering where his voice could have come from if he’s not even here.

“In here,” Yut Lung says from the bathroom, and Sing feels like an idiot. 

When he pokes his head into the bathroom door, which hangs ajar, he startles to find Yut Lung dresses in a bathrobe, a towel twisted on his head and face covered with a pale blue face mask, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and painting his fingernails with burgundy nail polish. 

“Um,” Sing says intelligently. 

Yut Lung looks back up at him, expression creased with annoyance. The embarrassment returns in a flood, and Sing wills his face to _stop turning red, goddamnit,_ but it has an unfortunate tendency to not care at all what Sing wants and act of its own accord. 

“What do you want?” Yut Lung asks, sounding irritated. 

“Your face mask is blue,” Sing says, really putting his IQ points on display. 

“An incredibly astute observation indeed,” Yut Lung says drily. “Is this what you came here for? To tell me what color my face mask is? Because I’m sorry to tell you that I would be perfectly capable of discovering that myself if I, for whatever reason, didn’t already know, by looking in the mirror.”

Sing is a little tired of feeling stupid, so he tries to muster every ounce of intelligence he has into forming a coherent answer. “Um, no. Sorry, I just haven’t seen a mask that color before. Usually they’re green, or white, or something. But I was here to ask you for, um,” Sing stumbles, silently cursing. He was doing so well! Yut Lung looks at him expectantly, and he’s starting to feel pressured. “Well, I, um, I wanted to take you up on that thing you offered yesterday.” _Very smooth, Sing._

“I offered you something?” Yut Lung squints, and Sing tries to stop himself from spiralling into a full-blown panic. 

“Yes,” Sing says. “I wanted to use your typewriter.” _Success!_

Yut Lung’s eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling. “My _typewriter?”_

“Yes,” Sing says again, defensively this time. 

“You want to use my typewriter?” Yut Lung asks, incredulous. Sing nods, feeling more sure of himself now. “Why?”

“A lack of other entertainment. The erotic fanfiction feels like it’s kind of off-limits now,” Sing says facetiously. 

Yut Lung smirks. “If you want to read it, then by all means, don’t let me stop you. Might as well make the most of your time here, right?” 

“I just don’t have it in me to read something like that so early in the morning,” Sing says with a sigh. “It’s more a nighttime activity, if you know what I mean, so I was just looking for something to fill the time before then,” he says.

Yut Lung nods sympathetically, and paints one more wine-colored stroke down the nail of his index finger and twists the brush back into the bottle. “Well, you can either ask Hu Tianbao for one of your own, or you can just use mine. It’s in the back left corner of the bedroom.”

Sing thinks for a moment, and considers the fact that Hu Tianbao has seemed to lose more and more clothing with each encounter, and he decides he doesn’t really want to risk seeing Hu Tianbao’s penis, so he says, “I’ll just use yours.” 

Yut Lung looks slightly surprised at this, and Sing feels a strange rush of satisfaction. “Knock yourself out. I’ll just continue to paint my nails in here if you need any help.”

“Thanks,” Sing says with a grin, and wanders over to the corner of the room, where he finds an old-looking (why is he surprised) typewriter on a mahogany desk by the window. 

He sits down, feeling almost nervous, and then he realises he doesn’t actually know how to use it. He really thought it would be pretty straight forward, but this is almost… intimidating in its complexity. 

Feeling a little sheepish, he wanders back into the bathroom, where Yut Lung seems to be on his last few nails, and clears his throat. 

Yut Lung snaps his head up, startled. “Oh, it’s you. You don’t know how to use it, right?” 

Sing presses his lips together and nods sadly. “Right.” 

“Okay,” Yut Lung says, sounding unsurprised. “You’re going to have to wait until I finish painting these, but fortunately Hu Tianbao has been kind enough to bless me with some really nice quick-drying nail polish, so we won’t have to worry about denting it once I’m done.” He dips the brush back into the bottle and adds another coat to the middle finger of his right hand. 

“We?” Sing asks, amused. 

“I would assume you are just as worried that my nails would be ruined because you needed help with the typewriter after I spent so long painting them,” Yut Lung says with a sharp stare. “Especially since they look so good.”

“Your nails are my top priority,” Sing says with utmost sincerity.

“Glad to hear we’re on the same page,” Yut Lung says, and now he’s finished with his ring finger. “Your patience is much appreciated.”

“It’s not like I can yell at you to hurry up. You wouldn’t help me with the typewriter if I did that.” 

“That’s not necessarily true,” Yut Lung says, and Sing raises his eyebrows doubtfully. “I’d still help you, I just wouldn’t do it in a nice way.”

Sing snickers. “How would you help in a not nice way?”

“I would need more time to come up with a plan,” Yut Lung says sourly. “You can’t just put me on the spot like this. Okay, be quiet. I have one more nail and you’re distracting me.”

Sing seals his lips obediently and tries not to fidget as he waits for Yut Lung to finish painting his last nail, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell that he hopes won’t linger in the folds of his clothes. 

Yut Lung adds one last layer to his nail and screws the brush back into the bottle. “That should be fine,” he says, holding his hand away from his face so he can admire his nails. He nods approvingly and says, “I’ll add a top coat once I’m done with you.”

Sing makes a face. “Why did you say it like that?”

Yut Lung glares, standing up. “Why did you interpret it like that? Stop being gross and tell me what exactly you’re struggling to grasp,” he says, walking over to the typewriter, Sing trailing behind him. 

“Pretty much everything,” Sing admits. “I don’t even know how to put the paper in.”

Yut Lung sighs as if Sing is interminably stupid, and he feels sort of defensive. It’s not like he’s ever had the chance to use a typewriter. Why would he have any reason to know how to put the paper in? 

“It’s fairly simple,” Yut Lung says, unnecessarily, and sits down at the chair. “You just put the paper in here, like a printer,” he says, grabbing a piece of paper from the pile next to the typewriter and sliding it in. “You use the carriage knob on the right here to twist paper up so that you can start writing at the top of the page.” He turns the knob so that the paper curls around the cylinder and emerges positioned so that only two inches or so of the paper are visible on the side closest to him.

“Still with me?” Yut Lung looks up at Sing, who is standing over him, suddenly noticing that the typewriter looks like it’s even more complicated than it had initially seemed. There are various knobs and switches whose functions are a complete mystery, and the image he’d had in his head of just sliding a piece of paper in and typing away suddenly seems ridiculous to him. He nods, unconvincingly, and Yut Lung snorts. 

“If you’re sure,” Yut Lung says, and turns back to the typewriter. “Okay, I’m going to have to write something just so that I can demonstrate this more easily. Is there anything specific you want me to write?”

“Um,” Sing says, mind coming up blank. He hadn’t really thought about what exactly he was going to be writing. “How about… day two?”

“Day two?” Annoyance flashes across Yut Lung’s face. “Are you planning on keeping a daily prison log?”

“No!” Sing rushes. “I just thought I might want to keep a journal. A regular journal. And the time situation seemed a little ambiguous, so I figured I couldn’t exactly put a date. This is just the best way I can put it in a general time frame.”

“If you say so,” Yut Lung says doubtfully, but his face relaxes, and Sing lets out an internal sigh of relief. Yut Lung grabs the carriage knob and pulls it to the side, saying, “When you start a new page, you have to pull the carriage knob so that you can start whatever you’re writing on the left-hand side of the page.” He types the words DAY TWO on the first line, and then pauses to look at Sing, like he’s checking if he’s still paying attention. 

“Once you’re finished with the first line, just push this rod to the left,” he pushes at a shining silver rod on the other side of the typewriter, “until it slides back into place and you can start a new line.” He slides it back into place, and the… typing thing is positioned on a new line. 

“Cool,” Sing says approvingly. Yut Lung smiles at this, and privately, Sing thinks that’s even cooler.

“Isn’t it?” Yut Lung says. “Those are the basics. You can also change the sizes of the margins, but I mean, do you really want me to show you that? Are you that picky about the sizes of your margins?” 

Sing squints, wondering if this is a trick question. “Um, no.”

“Okay, great. There’s some other stuff, too, but I’m thinking it’s probably not that necessary. There is a ribbon selector, though, on the right here.” Yut Lung points to a small switch that has three options: black, white, and red. “Essentially, it changes the color of the ink. The middle option is stencil, and that doesn’t type anything, but you can choose between the black or red ribbon.” 

This is very impressive to Sing. When he says so, however, Yut Lung just snorts. “I am beyond delighted that you like my typewriter. Bear with me for one more minute and I’ll let you use it for as long as you want.” Yut Lung lifts the cover for the top half of the typewriter to reveal a curved row of keys and two spools of ribbon on each side. “Each letter you type is spooling the ribbon from one side to the other. Eventually, one of the spools is going to fill up, so you have to change the direction that the ribbon spools in.” He flips a switch on the left side of the typewriter. “You can use this switch to do that. Are you going to be able to remember all that?” 

“Hopefully,” Sing says. “Even if I don’t, I appreciate your help.”

Yut Lung smiles slightly. “You are technically my guest. It would have been impolite to refuse.”

“Yeah,” Sing says, grinning. “That’s the reason,” he says cryptically, and inexplicably, Yut Lung looks away. _Is he blushing? His cheeks certainly look pinker than usual._

“Right, Yut Lung says, standing up suddenly. “Well, if that’s all you need, then I’ll just get started on dinner. I’ll let you know when the food is ready,” he says, and leaves the hut so quickly Sing barely has time to blink. 

Weird, he thinks, and then he sits down and starts to write.  
  


DAY TWO

This is, as the title has already told you, my second day on this island. Here are some things I’ve learned about it: 

  * Yue is stuck here forever (which sounds terrible)
  * I’m stuck here for a week (which is less terrible)
  * It’s basically perfect here (but still terrible) 
  * You can’t get sunburned
  * I’m pretty sure the sand is less hard to walk on than normal sand 
  * Time doesn’t really exist? I don’t know how it works



Here are some things I’ve learned about Yue: 

  * He has the worst curse ever
  * He’s really good at cooking (CRAZY RIGHT)
  * He has CRABS (wait… not like that)
  * He paints his nails (dark red) 
  * He likes to wear button-up Hawaiian shirts (usually matching with Hu Tianbao) 
  * He’s basically dated three guys 
  * He’s gay (?)



Here are some things I’ve learned about myself: 

  * I’m gay ???? (how else would I have ended up on this island?)
  * I don’t actually hate Yue’s company
  * I really like his cooking 
  * I THINK HIS CRABS ARE SO CUTE (there is no better way to phrase this)
  * I am kind of scared to stay on this island for longer than I need to (and I don’t want to think about what this means for longer than I need to)
  * I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get back 



I think that’s all I have to say for today. I don’t really have a plan for this but I hope when I go back I can keep these papers. 

See you tomorrow :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS ! ARE MY SUSTENANCE ! LEAVE ONE ! ALSO KUDOS ARE SO CUTE NOW THEY HAVE A HEART SO PLS LEAVE ONE OF THOSE TOO <3
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/grey_x_green) or [tumblr](https://grey-x-green.tumblr.com/) !!!! i haven't been on tumblr in a while but ill be back eventually lol anyway love you all many kisses from me 
> 
> stay safe and healthy ! i hope this makes your quarantine a lil better <3


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